


Wake Me Up

by lieforfun



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Has One Arm, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky is a Vet, Bucky is just bitter, He's also not in this fic, M/M, Military Backstory, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha is if you squint, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers is the Himbo We Deserve, Steve has a motorcycle, because i'm a slut for motorcycles please and thank you, but i'm going with it, harley davidson road 750, my friend says this doesn't look like a bakery, please be willing to read 6k words for one kiss thank you, valid, which
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23656642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieforfun/pseuds/lieforfun
Summary: Bucky gets a lot of looks. It could be that he has strikingly gorgeous blue/gray eyes, it could be his flowing brown locks, or it could be the fact that he's missing an arm.Steve is an idiot, and doesn't quite know how to make it up to the guy. But he's on the right track?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying a new style! Feedback is much appreciated. 
> 
> All mistakes are my own.

Bucky gasped awake, shooting up in a cold sweat as he eyed the room around him with jerky, unfocused movements. He gripped his stomach with a shaking hand in an attempt to keep the nausea at bay.

He was in his apartment, the same four walls of his bedroom the same dim gray-brown color, and he was in his bed. Experimentally, he wiggled his toes, and breathed a sigh of relief when they moved accordingly. He leaned over to grasp his cell phone that lay undisturbed on his nightstand, clicking the home button and squinting as the light came up harshly. 5:08 AM. Flipping through the notifications, he finally sighed and leaned his head back against his pillow, the phone forgotten against the tangled sheets.

“Fuck,” He whispered, closing his eyes for a moment. He regretted the course of action immediately when the image of his own mangled limbs shot through his head.

Bucky sat up once again, resigning himself to an early morning. He’d just go for a walk before getting ready for work and stop by Maya’s for breakfast. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.

So, he stood and grabbed some jeans out of the stand-up in his closet, figuring he’d take a shower before he went to work. He pulled a tee-shirt over his head then reached for the hoodie with the tighter knot on the left shoulder.

Before he leaves, he decides to take a few minutes to pull his hair into a bun. Grabs his keys and clips his backpack around his chest, then locks the door behind him.

Bucky tries not to think too hard about the dream. It was panic-inducing, and it made his stomach do flip flops to think about the way his body twisted. As long as he breathed his way through it and forced himself to wake up a bit more, he would be able to forget the images before he got to work. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s woken up from a dream like that. Just the first time that he’d been alone in his apartment without his roommate audibly snoring from the other room.

Sam had gone off for a week, on a work trip to Portland or some shit, Bucky didn’t remember. Sam was a private investigator, and that was about all of the information he’d been able to pry out of the man when he first moved in. Sam was okay, though; he helped Bucky tie the knots in his shirts and sweaters and helped bring in groceries and, after having watched Bucky struggle on his own, even offered to put his hair up for him (Bucky declined vehemently, and had grinned at the way Sam was visibly relieved.) Bucky was alone for the next seven days, however, and that meant just a bit more freedom and quite a bit lonelier.

Bucky shoved his hand into the pocket of his hoodie against the crisp morning air, wiggling his fingers slightly in the extra space where there was supposed to be another hand. He didn’t mind it anymore, the extra space. It barely registered in his head after the last five years of having one arm. That was a good thing, his therapist had said before he quit seeing her. It was good to have a new normal.

The air smelled of spring. He felt the cool dampness of the empty streets outside his apartment as he trudged down the avenue to Maya’s. That bakery practically kept him alive the last two years he’d lived up the street at his apartment. He’d go in for a loaf of bread and come back out with an armful of honey bread and coffee and muffins and things he really shouldn’t be eating if he didn’t want to become a couch potato. But it was a safe, calm space, and he found the smell of rising dough incredibly comforting.

By the time he trudged his way up the rain-slick streets to see the front of the bakery, it was turning to 6, and he spotted Maureen at the window unlocking the front door. Maureen was an older lady, divorced, from what he remembered of their conversations. She loved him the second she saw him come in the first time; she made sure to chat with him every time he came in to make sure he was doing okay, and always topped off his basket with something good. He broke out into a grin the moment he saw her and waved his arm- she caught sight of him and mirrored his expression. Bucky jumped into a jog to pass the last 20 feet.

“James!” She exclaimed, gipping his right shoulder with a light squeeze to steer him inside. “You’re here early, didja’ want some coffee?”

“Of course, ma’am, thank you.” He smiled kindly at her as he watched her off to bustle behind the counter. “How’s your morning?’”

She pursed her lips as she switched the coffee maker on, waiting until the coffee began brewing to answer his question. “Let’s just say it got much better now that you’re here, son.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he watched her gray hair melt over her shoulders, long enough to reach the middle of her back. “Is everything okay?”

“You know my son, Chris?”

Instantly Bucky’s shoulders relaxed, and he could breathe again. Maureen had an adult son, Chris, who was a constant source of her stress (unnecessarily, but who was Bucky to give advice in that situation?) Bucky was there for her to bounce her struggles off of, give her a hug when she finished, and try not to let her mother him too much. It could be annoying, but he found it incredibly endearing. He hadn’t seen his mother in over five years, so the familiar tough love that radiated from the woman was comforting to an extent.

This time, Chris had finally asked his girlfriend of 2 years to marry him. Of course, Maureen was outraged.

“I mean, what are they going to do? Lizzie is still in college, and Chris can’t support them both on his salary. Absolutely irresponsible, I think. Oh, they’ll be living in my home again in no time… You know _, I_ think he got her knocked up-“

Bucky nodded along, producing the correct facial expressions during her rant to let her know he was still listening, happy to take the hot coffee from her during a short break where she told him to “drink up, honey, you’re shakin’ cold,” promptly taking her advice. To top it all off, once she finished talking, he shook his head disappointedly, offering a “Chris seems like a good kid, I’m sure he’s got something else going on.” Which sparked her into another rant. He didn’t mind but, he paid so much attention to her waving hands that the two almost didn’t notice the couple that walked into the shop.

“Oh, James, I won’t take up any more of your time,” Maureen promised without looking at him, tying her apron around her waist in preparation for the couple. “Do your’ shopping, and I’ll getcha’ something good when you’re finished.”

Bucky smiled and nodded, taking a glance at the couple that walked in – a thin redhead woman, and a huge blond man – and took in their stature. He got up from his spot on the stool, gripping his coffee as he went to pick up a basket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the redhead woman go up to Maureen immediately, though he couldn’t make out what was being said. The blond man walked aimlessly up the first aisle, seemingly looking for _something_ but not knowing where to start. Bucky was hidden away enough to see the man, though the man wasn’t able to see him. At this angle, it was very difficult for Bucky not to notice how beautiful he was.

Okay, it’s not like he goes around staring at random men. Bucky genuinely thought he was beautiful - his hair was long enough on top that it dripped down into his eyes, giving the tight undercut a shaggier appearance. His shoulders were as broad as Bucky’s torso was long, he thought, licking his lips unconsciously as the blond bent over to grab a pastry off the bottom of the shelf and _fuck_. That ass had Bucky’s brain going a million miles an hour. When he came back up, Bucky noticed the freckles dotted along a thin, dainty nose, and furrowed brows made him look lost in thought as he read the contents of the pastry’s ingredients. Before Bucky could turn away, however, the man looked up and locked eyes with him.

Bucky immediately looked down at the baskets, setting his coffee down inside one and gripping the handles with a bright red burst of color tainting his cheeks. Of course, he got caught staring at a dude he’d never met before, _way to not be a creep, dude. You really paved the street for non-creepy LGBT+, you buffoon._

But, when he straightened up again, the man was still staring at him. He opened his mouth a bit, confused, until he realized.

Frowning, Bucky walked straight past the blond man, the red in his face quickly going from embarrassment to anger, making his way into the second aisle as he spat, “Pictures last a lot longer, man.”

The man’s eyes widened, and it was his turn to blush, dropping the pastry by accident onto the floor. Bucky didn’t care, too upset with himself for even toying with the idea that he was ready to even be attracted to another human being. The blond guy was just stupid pretty, and Bucky was helplessly gay. That’s all it was. He just needed to find some honey paste, maybe grab some scones for something to munch on the way back – Maureen would understand if he left before speaking with her again.

He grabbed his items and made his way back up to the front counter, thankful that the redhead had shuffled her blonde counterpart further into the store, and Maureen seemed to be keeping herself busy with the coffee machine. He placed his basket up onto the counter and removed the items from it, happily taking the basket back to its place so she wouldn’t have to.

“Maury, have you got anymore bear claws? I wanna take some with me to work.” Bucky smiled at her, and she nodded.

She scanned his things, placed them into a brown paper bag and made sure that he was watching as she neglected to scan the two bear claws before placing them in the bag along with his other things, and he shook his head.

“$11.87, darling.” She clipped cheerfully, and Bucky snorted.

“I know for a fact that no reasonable discounts in the world could have made my total that low,” He commented before handing her the card. He retrieved a wad of bills from his wallet as she was busy with the card, stuffing them into the tip jar by the register. “You’re a saint, Maureen.”

“Just make sure you keep yourself outta’ trouble James,” She replied with a smile. “I wanna see your face back here again, ya’ hear?”

Bucky nodded with a small “yes, ma’am,” before heading outside into the cool air again. He heard the door and bell click shut behind him, and he moved over to the side of the building to put his goodies into his backpack before they began getting cold.

While he was out, he took the moment to pull his smokes out and light one up, checking his phone for the time. Coffee, cigarettes, and a donut. He was almost forgetting about his dream.

He nearly jumped when he heard the door open and the little bell chime again, signaling someone else was coming out. To his surprise, Big Blonde Guy made his way through the door, looking awkward as hell as he slid out the slim frame shoulder first. He looks around, eyes scanning the lot, looking for something. He must have found it, because when Bucky took another pull the man’s eyes met with his. For some reason, they widened at first, seemingly motivated all at once before they fell. Thoughts locked under furrowed brows and a clenched jaw, Bucky thought to himself as he watched the man close the door behind him and make his way over to Bucky.

The man walked with a hunch- hands shove deep in his jacket pockets, shoulders bent over themselves and feet stumbling forward with short kicks. As if he’d grown used to making himself seem small. Bucky felt the muscle in his jaw jump as he pulled another drag from the nimble paper, and before he could blink, the blonde guy was standing in front of him.

“Uh, hi,” He said, not making eye contact with Bucky as he reached up to scratch the back of his head, into the softness of his undercut. Bucky could almost feel the texture of the short hairs. “Look, I’m sorry about uh, inside, I didn’t realize I was staring. I just didn’t want you to think I was an asshole.”

Bucky looked up – yes, fully had to look up because the man was nearly a full five inches taller than him, Jesus H. Christ – flicking the cigarette butt towards the ground though not releasing it, letting the embers float aimlessly towards the ground beneath his feet. He stood up taller, rolling his shoulders so they were straight enough that there was no way you could miss the absent limb.

“No worries, man. I get it.” He said softly, unconsciously noticing the deep blue of the man’s eyes. “Human nature to be curious.”

The man cocked his head to the side, looking confused for a moment. They stood there in silence until the blonde cleared his throat, and began to speak again. “My friend who’s with me, Natasha, she asked me to give you her phone number for her.” God, how awkward was this dude?

Bucky snorted, taking another drag of his smoke and flicking it towards the gravel driveway. Of course. “Tell your friend I think she’s very pretty, but I don’t swing that way.” The man’s eyes shot up in surprise, and before he could open his mouth again, Bucky interrupted. “I don’t need any comments on it buddy, but thanks. Maybe head back inside so you don’t blow this any harder than you already have?”

His eyes widened in shock, and suddenly his cheeks tinged the lightest pink. His eyes darted from Bucky’s face to the ground, and his mouth opens and closes like a suffocating fish.

“Look, I’m sorry- let me just start over.” The man reached up and scrubbed his hands through his gold hair, unconsciously leaving it disheveled. To Bucky’s dismay, the urge to stick his fingers in the soft locks was nearly unbearable at the sight. “I swear, I’m usually not this… off my game,” He started with a shy smile, flashing paperwhite sharp teeth that made Bucky’s knees threaten to buckle. “Natasha and I are new to this area- we don’t really know anyone around here well. You seem friendly, and you know the owner here… maybe you have an idea of what there is to do around this spot?”

Bucky didn’t think it was possible to frown as hard as he was then; he could actually feel the creases in his forehead deepen as he stared at the man hard for a few moments. The man shifted on his feet anxiously.

“Maybe you’d let me take you out for dinner after?”

The words were much quieter, and Bucky noticed the blonde’s refusal to look him in the eyes again. Honestly, Bucky very nearly busted into laughter. Was this a joke? What the hell was this guy’s problem?

“Are you… serious?” Bucky managed to force out, the venom only barely audible. He watched as the blonde tried to conceal the blow that the weight of his voice threw.

“Very,” The corners of his lips inched up in response.

“Okay, well,” Bucky shook his head, swinging his backpack over his shoulders again and clicking it closed over his sternum. “Fuck it. Why not.”

Bucky looked off over his shoulder in the direction of his apartment, knowing he should start heading back if he wanted to get ready for work in time. “Can I at least get a name?”

The smile Bucky got in response to his question was so wide it looked like it hurt. Though at the same time, the brightness of the man’s teeth right down to the canines that shaped the square of his mouth were absolutely dazzling; Bucky felt his knees get a little weak. _Fuck James, get your shit together_ , Bucky chanted in his head, trying to remember how to breathe properly when the man spoke again.

“Rogers, Steve Rogers.” The man – Steve – replied fluidly, and the low gravel of his voice nearly sent Bucky spinning into a grave of overwhelming emotion he was yet to understand. “I work at the corner store off of Juniper St.”

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky tentatively put out his good hand for Steve to shake. “Ex-military. Now I work for the local news station as a freelance writer.”

The gorgeous smile never seemed to leave the blonde’s face. “Creative type, huh? I do a bit of illustration on the side for extra money.”

Of course, he did. _Of course_ he did, because Bucky couldn’t catch a break from his stupid perfect teeth and stupid blonde hair and _god_ he just wanted to bolt right then and there. Bucky wanted desperately to still be pissed at the man. But he just seemed to stumble so badly over himself, like a newborn fucking deer, and fuck, Bucky could already feel the trouble radiating off the Adonis-like man. This guy was totally Bucky’s type, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep any grudge regardless of earlier interactions.

Bucky took a deep breath and willed his ever-beating heart to slow down before he spoke again. “Well, I’d love to see it sometime. I do have to head back to my apartment to get ready to head into the office. Do you live nearby here?” Steve nodded, his blonde bangs falling gently over his brow seemed almost white in comparison to the gold halo over the rest of his head. Bucky swallowed. “Meet me back here at 4, and I’ll walk you around town a bit. I don’t cook, so, you better be counting on that dinner.” He smirked as he watched the red creep back into the other man’s cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky turned in his report for the day and pulled his jacket over his shoulders. This one’s knot on the left arm was beginning to come loose, but Sam would be back soon enough to tie it again. Bucky nodded his goodbye to the girl at the counter and stepped out onto the rain darkened pavement.

Winter was beginning to dawn on the tail end of autumn, the air being less of a warm breeze and more of a sharp chill. Though not quite cold enough to skip out on a night in the town, it was chilly enough to switch to boots when he began getting ready to meet with Steve.

Fucking hell, _Steve_. He seemed so absolutely idiotic that Bucky wanted to simultaneously kick the guy in the nuts and climb the fucker like a damn tree. All he could think about that day was his stupid mop of halo blonde hair and what it might feel like to run his fingers through that perfectly combed clean cut just above Steve’s neck. Or what noises he could draw out of the taller man by gripping that perfect bottom lip in Bucky’s own canines. Absently, Bucky wondered if that blush from earlier in the morning went down further than the neckline of his long sleeve shirt…

Bucky kicked the brick of his porch, feeling himself get worked up. He looked around his apartment building and took a deep breath – no one had affected him like this since right after he was discharged years ago. Brock had been his first boyfriend since he was a teenager sneaking out of his parents' house to meet the neighbor boy down by the river behind their neighborhood.

Now? Now his plan was to literally flirt the pants off some guy he met after a nightmare induced trip to retrieve emotional support sweets. Great.

Bucky rubbed his palm over his tired eyes and started his trek towards Maya's.

Twenty or so minutes later, to Bucky’s surprise, he could see the blonde’s tall form in the short distance. Hands shoved in leather jacket pockets, Steve had a helmet tucked under his right arm, and to the side, Bucky spotted a gorgeous looking bike with what looked like another helmet hanging off the side. After getting a bit closer, his eyes widened in shock.

“Is that an HD Street 750?” Bucky exclaimed. Steve seemed to jump in place at the sound, whirling around to face the brunette before a smile graced his lips. Bucky continued, “I haven’t seen one of these in years. Not since I got back to the states.”

“She’s my current favorite possession,” Steve smirked. He took the helmet from under his arm and handed it to the shorter man. “You looked like someone who might appreciate her as much as I do.”

He’s dreaming. He must be. There’s no way in hell Steve was offering to let Bucky ride her.

“As much as I’d love to-“ Bucky started, feeling the bite of disappointment and shame reach his chest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I’m missing a vital limb for this particular activity.”

“Contrary to prior belief,” Was he _blushing_? “I didn’t, actually, notice. Not until after I made myself look like an idiot.”

Bucky frowned at the blonde, cocking his head to the side in confusion. “So, you weren’t staring at me because of my arm?”

Steve looked off to the side, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “No! I-I was… God, I’m sorry. I was trying to figure out what color your eyes were.”

Bucky’s brain kind of shorted out for a moment. He had overreacted to the blonde earlier that morning, snapped at him without thinking. He had only assumed based off of reactions he’d received in the past.

He felt bad, but more importantly, _Steve wanted to know what color Bucky’s eyes were._

After a long while, Bucky let a smirk fall over his lips as he sauntered up to the blonde, taking the hunter green helmet from Steve’s now-loose grasp and setting it gently to the ground at his feet. Steve visibly swallowed as Bucky began to take up his space, his head tilted back slightly as he peered down at Bucky over his nose. Something shone through the blackness of Steve’s pupils, the brunette just couldn’t put his finger on just what.

“Well,” Bucky began, a knowing look in his eye. “For your own records. My eyes are… actually… blue.” Bucky punctuated the silence between his words with stolen glances to the blonde’s parted lips.

Steve’s eyes darkened as he straightened up, forcing Bucky to take a breath and bite back a whine at how quickly he was able to take the reigns of the conversation without even _speaking_. Steve raised his now empty hand to touch the other man’s temple lightly, millimeters away from the corner of his eye, and Bucky had to restrain himself from fluttering his eyelids closed in unconscious response.

“Gray,” Steve said with a smirk. Bucky’s knees threatened to give out again at the sound of his voice, deeper and harsher than he probably meant it to sound. Bucky made a (fairly embarrassing) sound in questioning. Steve continued, beginning to strip himself from his leather jacket. Bucky nearly groaned at the loss of the man’s fingers against his face but watching him lose more of his clothing was definitely something he could compromise for. “There’s streaks of gray in the blue of your eyes, doll.”

“And you must be the professional on the matter,” Bucky spat out, grinning at the banter. Steve leaned in closer at the response, inches away from Bucky’s nose. He was so close to the man’s face… all he had to do was stand a bit taller on his toes…

“Oof,” the noise was ripped from Bucky’s lungs as the heavy leather jacket was dumped over his shoulders, the scent of sandalwood and Steve laughing distantly washing over him. Bucky glared at the blonde as he instinctively pushed his arm through the right sleeve to keep it from sliding off his lopsided shoulders.

“Hmm,” Steve made a pondering sound in the back of his throat, checking out the way the oversized jacket hung over the brunette’s shoulders, leaving Bucky just as confused as he was when they first started their conversation. “Here, let’s try this.”

Steve suddenly grasped the loose sleeve of the jack and began to fold it in on itself, until it reached the stump of Bucky’s left arm. Steve then pushed the unnecessary fabric into the empty sleeve hole. He then hummed to himself as he grasped the front of the leather jacket, tugging Bucky forward just a bit. Bucky’s mouth parted slightly, looking up at the blonde’s face as he worked. He was blushing furiously at the manhandling, though it was admittedly, a huge turn on. Steve hooked the zipper together at the bottom and zipped the brunette up all the way to the neckline, as if he was a small child getting ready to go into the snow.

“There we go,” Steve said proudly, smiling at the brunette. Bucky felt tiny in the jacket, though it must’ve only been a couple of sizes larger than what he himself would wear. “All ready to go.”

Bucky glared at the blonde. “There’s still a problem, Stevie. I can’t drive your bike with only one arm.”

Steve, the bastard, had the audacity to laugh. “No worries, sugar. You’re not driving it.”

“Huh?”

Steve walked over to the bike, fitting the helmet that was hanging loosely off the bike’s handle over his head and clipping the strap under his chin. He kicked the stand out from under the bike and hitched his leg over the seat. Bucky watched on, struggling not to lick his lips at the sight of the blonde’s jeans stretched deliciously over the curve of his thick thighs, his eyes wide at the implications of Steve’s actions.

“You comin'?” Steve flipped up his visor to look back at Bucky. “That helmet is actually Natasha’s, but you two look about the same size.”

Bucky bent over and picked up the helmet he had dropped at his feet, sliding it over his head as he walked towards the bike and settled himself into the curve of the blonde’s back on the seat. He clicked his chin strap shut with his thumb and forefinger, tentatively wrapping his arm around the man’s waist. “Keep your trap shut. And this doesn’t feel safe,” He muttered, feeling Steve grab his wrist and pull his arm tighter around his waist.

“Hold tight, sugar.”

By the time the two of them made it to town, Bucky had been holding on so tightly that he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore, which of course, only made him hold on that much tighter. He had not been on a motorcycle since he was in his teens, before the military, and he found that he didn’t much like the experience as he did as a child. Bucky had clenched his eyes shut and leaned into the solidity of Steve’s back, feeling the contrast between the warmth that flooded through Steve’s shirt and the chilly wind whipping through his clothing.

When he wiggled off (Yes, he had gone so stiff that he had to maneuver his body in a way that could be considered wiggling, sue him) the bike, he unclipped the helmet and dramatically pulled it off his head. Unfortunately, he managed to get it caught in his hair, as well.

“Slow down, hang on!” Steve laughed, jumping off the bike and kicking the stand underneath it to keep it upright. He rushed over to the brunette who was holding the helmet as far back as it would go, his hair acting as a makeshift leash to his scalp.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Bucky complained as Steve carefully plucked the trapped strand from the helmet. After straightening up, Steve went to place the helmet on the bike while Bucky muttered “Grow your hair out, they said. It will be fun, they said” to himself.

Bucky, against his lesser judgment, began to unzip the leather jacket and slid the material off his shoulder. He handed it to Steve, who frowned.

“Wear it. It’s cold.” Steve said, sounding genuinely frazzled.

“Dude,” Bucky sighed, cocking his hip to the side. “You’re wearing nothing but a long sleeve shirt. And I’m not wearing your jacket longer than I have to- you could at least buy me a drink first, I feel like this is moving a bit-“

Steve pressed his palm to the curve of Bucky’s cheekbone, the tips of his fingers digging their way into his hair and effectively shutting him the fuck up. “Just wear the jacket, Bucky. It’s not gonna kill you.”

Bucky wore the jacket. In the back of his mind, he recognized the first time Steve had said his name out loud and not some sort of sickly-sweet nickname. It sounded sharp, yet firm on his tongue, like a _threat_. Steve may act like a shameless buffoon, but he managed to make Bucky believe the mere thought of disobeying him would be the last bad idea he might ever get to have.

He also recognized that he looked absolutely ridiculous in the oversized leather jacket. The metal of the zipper met the crotch of his jeans and he blushed at the initial contact of the two. Steve, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine in contrast to Bucky feeling like a whole idiot. Steve had his hands shoved in his jean’s pockets (the jeans that were sinfully tight around the man’s thick thighs and ass that looked like it was carved from gods) whistling lightly as they made their trek to the town square.

Bucky managed to sneak secretive looks at the slightly-taller man, watching the way the muscles of his neck corded and moved underneath his skin, the way he walked straight upright with perfect posture, like he was on a mission and not a single soul could stop him. Bucky was also disappointed in the way the clouds muted the sunlight gleaming off Steve’s perfect fuckin’ nose, though still grateful for the chance to admire it a bit longer.

“Didja’ need something?” Steve asked with a smirk, turning his head to meet Bucky’s eyes. Bucky felt his cheeks burn and nearly tripped over himself in an effort to make it look like he wasn’t staring, even though he _definitely had been_.

“Shut your trap, punk.” Bucky forced out though he noticed that his voice did not convey the amount of venom he had been aiming for. “You said you wanted to know a bit about the town, right?”

Steve nodded, his eyes facing forward again as he took a step up the curb, Bucky following right after.

“I’ve lived here for just around five years, found my way around mostly because I’m not supposed to drive.” Bucky grinned as he spoke. “Don’t mean I can’t. Public transportation stops are in Brookeville, Peachtree, Dunlap, and Frix. If ya’ get lost, everyone around here is fairly friendly. Don’t be afraid to pop into some shop and ask for directions.”

Steve glanced over at Bucky momentarily before flicking his eyes back to the sidewalk in front of them. “I guess that’s the perk of living in a small town, huh?”

Bucky looked back at the blonde. “You betcha’. My roommate, Sam, calls it a curse, but I like the fact that I can walk to Maya’s early in the morning and not have to worry about catching a cab. Sam also thinks it’s funny to tie my pant legs into a knot and watch me try to undo them myself,” Bucky frowned at the memory. “After further thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that my friend is a dick.”

Steve laughs- and the sound is like music. It’s hearty and full and it makes Bucky want to curl up that strength and forget a single worry.

“Sam sounds awesome,” Steve said. “I’d love to meet him someday.”

“I’m sure he’d love to meet you too,” Bucky muttered without thinking.

“Hm?”

“Nothing, Stevie. Hey, have you been to the Red Robin’s yet?”

They spent the rest of the day walking around the town square. Bucky word vomited as much of the town history that he’d been able to memorize during his time there, and Steve pointed out different buildings and asked as more questions than Bucky would’ve thought possible. Before long though, the topics stopped being about the town and started being about each other. They’d met that morning, so why not find out why fate put them together?

“Nat and I moved here from New York,” Steve explained as they sat on a bench together while Bucky pulled out his smokes. “I was a product of the city, but all I know about Nat was that she came to the states from her family in Siberia. She never got super open about her past but I don’t mind. We moved here so I could open my business, and she came here to be my business partner and to get away from the crowd. She’s my best friend.”

“She another kind of friend?” Bucky asked quietly, gazing down at the pavement beneath his feet.

To his dismay, Steve laughed. “God, no. I’m not really her type.” Steve kept that same smile, turning it towards Bucky. “Gotta say she’s not really my type either.”

“Ya’ can’t just leave a fella hanging like that, Stevie.” Bucky chuckled. “First ya’ go off staring into my eyes like a serial killer, now ya’ tryin’ to skip around the subject. I’m hanging onta’ the edge of my seat.”

Steve’s smile never left his face as he squinted at Bucky curiously. Bucky couldn’t help but shift under the weight of his stare, the heat of it forcing him to quit his squirming. Steve moved closer into Bucky’s space as he spoke. “Your accent. You were hiding it before,” Steve muttered, his eyes moving all over Bucky’s face before settling on his lips. “Brooklyn? Or Queens?”

Bucky swallowed. “Brooklyn. How did you know?”

“Like I said, Buck. Product of the city.”

Bucky nodded in acknowledgment. “I lost it for a while after I got out of the army. Everybody’s speech gets jumbled up, and nobody was who they were before they stepped into the recruiter’s office. I guess it just slips out whenever I get real’ happy, you know?”

“Why didn’t you go back to Brooklyn?” Steve asked quietly. “After they discharged you?”

Bucky turned his head further away so Steve couldn’t see his face. The last thing he wanted the blonde to see was him breaking down. “Uh, there wasn’t really… um, anything left for me there.” Deep breath. “When I lost my arm – fuckers had me under a goddamn tank, couldja’ believe it? I tried checking back in with my family, but no one was left. My dad died when I was a kid, my ma’ passed away from cancer while I was serving, and my sister and her husband moved to Washington when my niece was born. I guess home isn’t home if your family isn’t there anymore.”

Steve was quiet for a few minutes, taking in the information without so much as an “I’m sorry.” They sat like that, the silence rummaging through their heads as the sight of a canary plopping her tiny body onto a lamppost nearby caught Bucky’s attention. He watched her graceful feet leap off into a swooping dive, making her way back up into the air like a dancer. Only then did Steve speak again.

“My dad died serving in the Army when I was an infant,” Steve looked up at the sky, his elbows resting against his knees as he hunched over his spot on the bench. “My mom did her best, but she couldn’t afford all of my medical issues growing up. Asthma, scoliosis, blood disorders, and on top of all o’ that, I tended to get myself into a bit of trouble as a kid. I ended up in the foster system. Never got adopted, but I did get the surgeries I needed for scoliosis, and the anger management classes I needed to stop getting into fights.” Steve huffed a short laugh at the end of his sentence. “The only thing left on my list is that damn asthma.”

Bucky looked at the blonde carefully, a light in his eyes and a small smile poking through his anxious stare. “You’re not so bad, Rogers.”

Steve grinned. “As for your earlier question, I don’t really have a type. But if I did, it would be pretty boys with gray and blue eyes, and a tragic backstory.”

Bucky shoved his shoulder playfully. “Asshole,” He laughed.

Steve smiled back at Bucky, a fondness peeking through the tiny wrinkles by the corners of his mouth, and the light coming through his eyes forced Bucky still, and he swallowed at the gaze.

“In fact,” Steve continued as if Bucky had not responded with slight violence. “You look fairly gorgeous yourself, wrapped up in my jacket.”

Bucky felt his cheeks flush in response, the heat of it reaching the skin of his neck and chest. He straightened up, however, and shot back. “Only because you’re a caveman, and insisted I be covered in some sort of property.”

Steve leaned in closer. At this point, their shoulders were touching, and Bucky could barely breathe because Steve’s face was right in his face and… did he always have those freckles on his nose? Like tiny yellow paint splatters across the sharp curve of his nose, blurring as they got closer, hypnotic.

“I don’t hear you complaining,” Steve muttered, gaze shifting to reach Bucky’s lips.

Drunk on the color of the blonde’s blue eyes as they moved in the light, Bucky chewed on his bottom lip. “I’m not saying no, either.”

Before Bucky even finished his sentence, he felt Steve’s lips reach his own. Automatically his eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the larger man like he couldn’t get enough.

Soft and sweet quickly turned rough and messy, as Steve slid a hand into brunette’s hair, tugging on the length delicately while he took immediate control over the kiss. He pulled the man’s lower lip into his own and gripped it between his teeth, forcing a quiet whine from Bucky’s throat. Steve grinned at the response, already feeling the heat of the other man’s blush radiating from his proximity to Bucky’s face, and pulled away. Not before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips.

Bucky sat back, wide-eyed and wound up tight, not moving an inch while Steve sat back against the bench. Though he couldn’t see to know for sure, he could tell Steve was trying to stifle a laugh.

“Now, what was that about dinner?” Steve joked, swinging his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and pulling him into the crook of his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed! If not, please check out what other works I have posted. If you super duper liked it, you can follow me on Tumblr at portionsofarthur.tumblr.com OR read more of my own short stories outside of fanfiction at essentialshortstories.blogspot.com. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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